


What Doesn't Kill You

by Heronfem



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort Food, Cullen and Dorian Are Bros, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Scars, Skinner and Dalish: Seduction Dream Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:36:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian stepped in front of a flail to save The Iron Bull, and ends up with the scars to show for it.  </p><p>Life goes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Doesn't Kill You

It had been a fairly standard day until the flail.

That was all Bull could think about as Dorian paced back and forth in front of the door, minutes away from a panic attack. He stayed silent, tracking Dorian’s movements as he fiddled with the patch that now covered his still healing eye. He’d been lucky, luckier than Bull. Despite stepping into the path of a flail meant, rather ironically, for Bull, his face was the only truly damaged bit of him. The eye had been saved, the lid not even cut, but now five long, red scars stretched from his hairline to his jaw. He and Cullen matched now, scars on their lips, and he and Bull matched with their patches, though Dorian’s was on the right instead. 

They were red and puffy still, a mess, just healed enough that magic wouldn't take, and the eye needed to rest before he could start using it again. For another week, they were to be twins. The patch he’d had made was quite beautiful, black brocade with silver embroidery, taken from one of Vivienne’s old robes that she’d donated to the cause. He wouldn’t need a metal one, though he would likely have to use it to rest his eye for the rest of his life on days when it hurt.

“Do you think I’m hideous?” Dorian said abruptly, turning to look at him. The terror was fairly obvious. “Is it so bad?”

“ _Kadan,_ you almost lost an eye for me,” Bull said gently, rising from his bed to walk over to him, stroking his hair. Dorian was looking at him with pure desperation. “Every time I see that gorgeous face of yours, I’m going to remember how much you love me. So no, I think you’re the most beautiful man who’s ever lived.”

Dorian swallowed hard, closing his eye as Bull gently stroked his scars. “I hate them. But there’s too much damage, they can’t fix it.”

“Well, at least that mustache will grow back just fine.”

Dorian’s lips quivered. He looked different without it, and the loss of the slight tickle when they kissed hurt more than Bull wanted to admit. He’d lost half of it when the flail hit, sheering it from his face, and he’d eventually given up, shaving the whole thing off to begin again. 

“The same can’t be said for my poor eyebrow,” he said, without much heat. “I’ll have to start drawing it on.”

Bull gently kissed his forehead, and Dorian swallowed hard.

“You’re going to be just fine,” Bull said softly. “You look rather rakish, now.”

Dorian snorted, wincing as he reached up to touch the corner of his nose. That had been a particularly tricky heal, and he’d been furious to lose the piercing there. “Ow. Yes, well. Charming and dangerous looking, I suppose. I’m meeting with Cullen for lunch and chess, and then I’m supposed to help Solas with the little library.”

“I’ll meet you for dinner then?” he asked, and Dorian nodded, taking a deep breath. He knew Dorian wanted to cover the scars with as much make up as possible, and had for a few days, but it had aggravated them more and he simply didn’t have the means to do so every day. Today would be the first day he walked out and about without the layers caked on, and he knew how badly he was scared.

Dorian slowly opened the door, and stepped outside.

oOo

“I brought soup,” Cullen said with surprising cheer as he carried the tray to their normal table. Dorian groaned with relief, slumping.

“Maker be praised, everything hurts to chew. Soup will be a wonderful change. What kind is it?”

Cullen carefully set the tray down, taking the loaf of bread and splitting it with him. “Hot and sour soup. The cook thought I was crazy, but I like it, and thought you might. No prawns, though. We don’t have any close enough to keep them long enough to eat without salting them.” He shrugged as Dorian gaped at him, overjoyed. “It’s not seafood, but I figured it was something originally ‘Vintish.”

Dorian dug in with relish, lifting his eyes to the heavens at the taste of proper spice on his tongue. “Finally,” he managed when he’d swallowed it down. “I’m so happy I could cry. Someone in this blasted country knows how to use spices. Did you make this yourself?”

Cullen chuckled, dipping his bread in. “Yes. It was that or try to explain the process to the already extremely skeptical cook. But I did give the remnants to Krem, and given how happy he looked, I thought this would go over well.”

Dorian savored the soup, closing his eyes and letting the heat wash through him. It was soothing, almost like being home, though in vastly more enjoyable company. “Where did you learn?”

“In between my time at Kinloch and Kirkwall, I was sent to Ostwick. Just for a few weeks, while they sorted out the paper work. The cook had family from the Nevarran-Tevinter border, and kept everyone well fed with a fairly wild variety of foods. Orlesian, Fereldan, even some Antivan. I was an awkward, out of place wreck, so I hid there most of the time, and eventually she decided that since I just wanted to be left alone, I might as well be useful while doing it.” He smiled fondly, relaxing. “It seems I haven’t lost it too badly.”

“Indeed not.” Dorian was already almost half done, relieved that his scars weren’t aching from both talking and eating. “This was very in vogue for a while in Qarinus. Felix and I ate out quite regularly when Gereon was away for whatever reason, and this was a particularly favorite of his.” He relaxed back into his chair, forcing himself to slow down. “This is wonderful comfort food, you chose well.”

Cullen snorted, smiling. “Am I so transparent?”

“As glass, dear Commander.” Dorian gently nudged him with his foot. “And I’m all the more grateful for it. Thank you.”

Cullen went a delicate pink, muttering something under his breath about friendship and its importance, and Dorian let it go.

Chess was the only time it seemed possible to convince Cullen to slow down and smell the crystal grace, as it were, and Dorian enjoyed their afternoons. It had been something of a pet project for the Inner Circle- get Cullen out of his office and doing _something_. It had taken nearly a month of careful coaxing to tempt Cullen out of doors with the promise of chess and lunch, and Dorian felt rather proud that they’d become friends. Cullen was an awkward, sweet man when he wasn’t yelling at recruits, and being around Dorian, who had no real fear of the Templars, helped temper his fear of mages.

“Is it strange to look at me like this?” Dorian asked as he moved his Divine. “With the scars and all, I mean.”

Cullen frowned. “Not particularly. The mustache being gone is the strangest part, I think. The scars seem positively normal in comparison. You look much younger without it.”

Dorian scowled. “I knew it. Bull refused to comment.”

“Bull also has very good incentive to not piss you off,” Cullen said, all innocence. 

“On my life, I’ll zap you.” He snapped his fingers, calling a bit of lightning for emphasis.

Cullen laughed, stealing one of his towers. “Peace, peace. But no, Dorian, you look fine. You’re as handsome as ever.”

“Ah _ha_ , you do think I’m handsome!”

“Makers breath.”

oOo

The hidden library was one of Dorian’s favorite places in all of Skyhold, and as he and Solas worked to carefully clean and catalog the books, he found some of his pain lessening. The other denizens of Skyhold hadn’t so much as batted an eye at his face, even with the scars so much worse than before. The eye patch had thrown one or two, but a quick reassurance that his eye was merely healing had been all that he needed to say.

“I am sorry,” Solas said abruptly, pausing in the middle of his work. Dorian turned, raising his undamaged eyebrow and carefully sliding a book back into place. 

Pulling the scarf that covered his mouth and nose down, he asked, “For what? Did you write down the wrong title?”

Solas swallowed hard, his eyes fixing on the patch. “For failing you.”

The words took a moment to sink in, and Dorian’s arms slowly fell to his sides. “Oh,” he said dumbly, and frowned. “You didn’t fail me, Solas.”

“I was supposed to have barriers up,” he said, his voice tight. “You could have died.”

Dorian sighed, walking over to stand in front of him. “Solas,” he said patiently, “I’m alive. The what-if’s aren’t important. Let’s face it, I knew something like this was going to happen eventually. Granted, I was expecting less scarring out of the ordeal, but I’m not a child and neither are you. We made mistakes. I could have zapped him earlier, or got my staff up to block, or thrown up a barrier myself. But I didn’t, and you didn’t, and Herah didn’t either. But you killed the brute, I’m still alive, Bull’s still alive, and my eye is still in my head.” He touched the scars lightly, swallowing down a lump in his throat. “I won’t lie to you, I don’t like the scars. They hurt far, far deeper than just skin, but I have my health. Mostly.”

Solas looked like he wanted to both punch him and hug him, and Dorian silently turned to take the next few books down before either of them could get too emotional. “So! Tell me about that dreaming you did while in the Brecilian Woods, you promised you were going to. Was there _really_ a blood mage with a tower?”

oOo

Somehow, in between all the running around he did that day, he saw everyone. Sera was leery of him, but elbowed him in the ribs and gave him what looked like one of Cullen’s boots before bolting. Blackwall made a rare trip to the library to ask if he knew of any books on carving techniques in their catalog. Cassandra dragged him out to ask if he’d actually read the books she’d lent him (yes, unfortunately, damn Varric and his horrible, addicting serials). Varric himself grabbed him when he passed through the Great Hall to collect on his debt. Cole and Josephine showed up at the same time with flowers and papers, respectively, and spent about five minutes dancing around each other trying to hand him both, only to be superseded by Leliana with a message from his tailor in Orlais about the new robes he’d ordered. Vivienne deigned to grace his presence and gave him a cream that probably cost more than some houses, specifically designed to ease scars and encourage healing, even with the most difficult of wounds. He resolutely didn’t cry, but he did have to take a minute to compose himself.

All in all, it was not a bad day.

Herah joined them for dinner in the tavern, wedging herself in next to Dorian on the Charger’s table. Dinner was a raucous affair, and Dorian smiled as she wrapped an arm around him. The table cheered as she announced she was buying a round, and Dorian laughed as she planted a kiss on top of his head.

“I was going to get you for lunch today, but Cullen beat me to it,” she said cheerily, fluttering her eyelashes at Krem until he rolled his eyes and passed over a roll. “Thank you, handsome.”

“You owe me.”

“Of course, sweet thing.” She blew a kiss to him, and he hurriedly drank to avoid being seen blushing.

Bull laughed, cheering as the barmaid showed up with the drinks. They were passed around quickly, and everyone dug in, the familiar level of chatter soothing as Dorian worked on fighting with his meat. Eating slowly to avoid pulling his scars was royally annoying. They were still new enough that they ached with too much movement.

“So, how was it?” she asked quietly when Dalish started flirting outlandishly with Cullen when he showed up. “You doing okay?”

“I am,” he said, smiling as Cullen stammered, grinning down at the elf. “Better than I thought I would. It helps that I’m still the best looking man in Skyhold. That hasn’t changed, just ask Cullen.”

“Oh ho ho,” she grinned, and whistled when Skinner joined in on the action. “Good. I’m proud of you.”

He ducked his head, smiling as Bull wrapped an arm around his waist, and settled in to attack his steak while a bright red Cullen was pulled onto Skinner’s lap.

oOo

“What do you think?” Bull asked when they finally began making their way up to their room, Dorian clutching the wall as he tried to learn how to manage with different depth perception. “Are we going to scar the neighbors tonight?”

Dorian snorted, giving up and taking Bull’s offered arm. “Hardly. I’m still so stiff, I just want to sleep. We’ll leave that up to your women and Cullen, if the whispering was anything to go by. Those two are terrors to behold.”

“Pretty sure the only reason Krem wasn’t in on that was how Herah was looking at him,” Bull chuckled. “There’ll be rumors all over Skyhold by dawn.”

They finally reached their door, and Dorian pushed it open. By the time Bull closed and locked it, he was half out of his clothes and heading in a bee line for the bed. He laughed, bending down to scoop up the robes and drape them on the clothes horse in the corner. Their room had been vastly rearranged since Dorian first moved in properly, the rubble cleared out and the ceiling repaired to start with. Now, it was positively cozy, and included roof shutters in case he wanted the skylight. He was just waiting for Sera to come flying through it one morning. 

Dorian dropped onto the bed with a _whuff_ of exhaustion, dragging pillows to his chest. “Ugh. I should have gone to the baths after working with Solas, but that’s just too much effort now.”

Bull smiled, bending down to kiss his shoulder. “Should I get the nice oils out?”

“Mmm, would you?”

Bull kissed his shoulder again, and straightened to hang his shoulder harness on a hook, and carefully removed the massage oils from their little box on the vanity. Dorian shifted to the middle of the bed, and he carefully climbed on to straddle him, getting a happy sigh in return. “What do you think, use the Amrita’s Vein? Be _really_ expensive bastards?”

Dorian laughed, nodding. “I know you like the scent of it. I’m not sure Herah’s ever forgiven me for having that made, it took so long to get right.”

“I remember. What, three weeks? Five?”

“Five,” Dorian said, sighing softly. Bull opened the vial and poured just enough into his hand to get them suitably slick. “Vivienne gave me something for the scars, by the way. Very expensive. I think I could probably buy a house with it.”

Bull made a non committal noise, and ran his hands over Dorian’s back, warming the skin. The man went boneless beneath him, groaning in relief.

“Oh, that’s nice. H’ve I told you today tha’ I like your han’s?” Dorian’s voice was slurred and muffled by his pillow. 

“I don’t think so,” Bull said, bending over to kiss his hair as he began working on the knots on his shoulders. “I know, though.”

Dorian hummed, and Bull lost himself in the smooth drag of skin on skin, the scent of the oil and how Dorian loosened with every stroke over sore muscles that he held too tightly.

“You know what we should do,” he said absently. “We should do this when I’m buried in you one day. See how nice you loosen up for me.”

Dorian shifted a little, hips rolling just the slightest bit into the bed. “There’s a thought.”

He smiled, and left him be until he was utterly incapable of moving. “There you go,” he soothed, and Dorian let out a soft croon as he got up, going to clean his hands off before returning to bed. He rolled Dorian over, sliding in and letting him flop an arm over his stomach. 

“You really don’t mind?” Dorian asked sleepily, reaching up to touch the brocade patch. 

“I really don’t,” Bull said, running his fingers through Dorian’s soft hair. “You could be covered in scars and I’d love you. You could be completely hairless and I’d love you. You could be as hairy as Blackwall and I’d love you.” That got a laugh out of him, and Bull leaned down to kiss him, tilting Dorian’s chin up with his other hand. “I know Tevinter's all sorts of fucked about faces, and looking good. I know how much appearances mean to you, and I understand. But know this. You wear battle on your face, triumph in each line.”

Dorian stared at him for a moment, his eye wide, and finally said, “That might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said to me. Kiss me.”

And The Iron Bull did.

**Author's Note:**

> This came about from a short paragraph I wrote at work and it wouldn't get out of my head so boom, here you go.
> 
> Fun fact, since I'm allergic to peanuts I have never in my life actually eaten hot and sour soup.


End file.
